


the kids aren't alright

by uglygods



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Avengers Family, F/F, Parent Tony Stark, Running Away, Therapy, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Starks daughter, annabeth and oc are basically sisters, chosen family, killing monsters with safety scissors, lesbian main character, oc is daughter of aphrodite, percy and oc are like brother and sister, tony stark's demigod daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglygods/pseuds/uglygods
Summary: Violet Stark wasn't meant to have a normal life.It was made apparent when she was born to Tony Stark, a literal billionaire. Also being the daughter of a Greek Goddess just happened to add to it.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	1. prologue | a lunch lady with talons trashes an art room

**Prologue: A Lunch Lady With Talons Trashes an Art Room**

The first time Violet noticed something strange was when she was five.

She was considered smarter than other kids, though, not as smart as her father was. She'd heard it many times, the gossip and whispers of adults around her. She was good at math, she could read more than a kid her age was supposed to, but in no way was she the genius brain-child her father was.

That's the long way of saying she ended up in a first-grade class by the age of five—she could have gotten into second grade, but Pepper (who just recently became her father's personal assistant) was afraid that she'd fail at making friends that much older than her. She turned six the next month, anyways.

She attended one of those upper-class, private schools packed with rich kids already spoiled by the riches their parents poured onto them. Violet was no different, so she found little to no trouble fitting in.

Bella Tran, her best friend, was the daughter of a man who made phones. Well, not a worker, but the person who designed this. Therefore, Bella had her very own phone created just for her—with only the ability to call her parents, call her father's assistant, or call the police. That didn't stop the two girls from pressing in random numbers and pretending to have conversations with people.

It was a sunny March day (most days were sunny in Malibu), the first-grade class was playing on the playground, a small hoard of uniform-wearing children running about and screaming.

Violet and Bella were sat on the swings, once more playing their self-made Telephone Game and giggling and the fake situations each other made up. Normally, Melody Michaels would join them, but she was absent that day.

As Bella began a dramatic monologue of asking Santa Claus for another puppy (made funny by the fact that Christmas had already passed), Violet began to swing to see how high she could go. She looked around the playground, watching a group of kids run around and play tag.

Violet's eyes caught the sight of one of her lunch ladies standing by the doors to get inside the school. She seemed to be in a very deep conversation with her teacher, Mrs. Epps. They both would shoot looks towards her and Bella, as if they were talking about them.

She slowed her swing down, dragging the bottom of her dress shoes through the wood chunks, now ignoring Bella's giggles.

Mrs. Epps made her way towards them, dodging child after child in an effort not to get knocked over. When she made it to her, she smiled, though it seemed strained. "Hey, V."

"Hi."

Bella sat her phone down in her lap, now watching the two talk. Her swing creaked as it slowed down. Everything seemed amplified. She noticed every little detail, from the wrinkle in Mrs. Epps' shirt to the sound of other first-graders' shoes digging into the grass.

"The nice lunch lady would like to talk to you, is that okay?"

Violet's eyes went over her teacher's shoulder to the lunch lady, who seemed blurry, though she assumed that was because of the distance. She narrowed her eyes, was the lunch lady wearing a puffy coat?

At Mrs. Epps' question, she gave a dull nod, dread creeping into her chest. Something felt off, like she was walking into a dangerous situation. Violet ignored this, and made her way to the lunch lady, though she made sure to drag her feet.

By the time she made it to the lunch lady, the red winter jacket she wore seemed the flicker. It went from being made from a cloth material to being feathers that shimmered under the sun. Confused, Violet tried to focus on the coat, but found that her vision refused to allow her to get a real look at it.

"Hello, dear," she gave her a smile, though it almost seemed evil. Her voice was scratchy itself, and Violet almost expected her to cough to clear it up. "You have made a mess in my cafeteria!"

"I did?" Responded Violet.

"Yes! Azela demands you clean it up!"

She frowned once more attempting to focus her eyes on the scarlet jacket. It didn't work, and just made her head hurt. Violet was sure she didn't make a mess (at least, she didn't remember doing so), but she was never known to be one to go against an authority figure. "Who's Azela?"

"I am!"

"Oh."

Azela put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Her nails were sharp and painted black, almost looking like talons. Violet swallowed, but still gave a small smile towards the lunch lady.

The two made their way towards the cafeteria. Azela kept making weird noises, like squawks and caws, and several times had said: "Yummy meal for Azela!" To say that Violet was uncomfortable would be an understatement.

When the two stepped into the cafeteria, Violet frowned. It was completely clean, with a janitor bucket and mop left in the corner. Did a janitor clean it before she got there?

"There!" Shrieked the lunch lady, pointing a taloned finger towards a small spot on one of the lunch tables, "Clean! Azela must prepare for a yummy demigod snack!"

Violet opened her mouth to question what a demigod was, but decided to just clean up the small stain and be on her way. Grabbing a napkin from a dispenser and blobbing some hand sanitizer from it, she cleaned until the spot went away.

Which was fairly quick.

Dropping the napkin in the trash, she turned her attention to Azela, who was in the kitchen. Her back was bent over a big boiling bucket of water, and she was pouring boxes of salt into said water.

"Miss?"

The lunch lady no longer looked like a lunch lady. Her uniform was ripped off, her hairnet was barely still on her head. Her crimson jacket was now wings, shimmering in the florescent light of the kitchen. And this time, her eyes allowed her to focus on it. Finding nothing else to do, Violet screamed.

Azela barely gave her a glance, "Stay there, demigod!" She shrieked, "Azela likes her food salty and cooked! We will wait for the water to boil!" With her hand, which, much to Violet's horror, was now actual black talons, she grabbed a handful of small salt packets and threw them straight into the water. Not even bothering to rip open the packages.

Violet booked it. Even with her small legs, she found herself quickly running out of the room. Her brown hair whipped behind her as she did so, with her dress shoes squeaking against the floor.

The sound of a loud shriek of anger came from within the cafeteria. Soon, the sound of flapping wings followed behind Violet, easily catching up to her small form. Panicked, Violet ran into the first open door she saw—the art room.

As she entered the room, she kicked the doorstop out of the way, causing the door to slam shut behind her.

Violet dunked behind the art teacher's desk, grabbing a pair of adult-scissors that were left discarded on the floor and curling herself against the wall.

There was pounding at the door, and what sounded like ten birds making loud noises as the lunch-lady-turned-monster attempted to break it. It went silent for a long time, and Violet almost popped her head up to see what happened.

Lucky her that she didn't, because the silence was followed by the sound of wood breaking and the door-busting in. She had to bite her tongue not to scream out, and instead curled further into the corner.

"Come out, come out, little demigod! Azela can smell you," and, to dramatize the situation, the bird-woman let out a loud, long sniff.

Azela's feet, which were also black talons, scraped across the floor. She continued to sniff like a bloodhound, occasionally letting out a caw or other noise when she thought she found her. She had thrown a bin filled with markers and crayons against the wall, believing her to be hiding behind it. Instead, it caused a rainbow of art-products to go flying across the room.

"Salt!" Azela shrieked, "All I can smell is salt—but I know you're here, demigod."

If Violet hadn't been hiding for her life, she would have mentioned it was her fault for using so much salt in her water, but she chose life over a sassy comment.

In anger, Azela began to wreck the room. She ripped art frames off of the walls, throwing to the floor with loud CRASH!es. A series of fourth-grade clay projects were laid out on the window-sill to dry, and she threw them all over the room—one, an apparent man sat in a chair, landed right beside Violet's hiding spot. The name MILES was written across the bottom of the sculpture in Sharpie.

After a loud series of squawks and human screams, she scraped her feet across the aluminum floor towards Violet. She came to flip the teacher's desk over, but instead screeched with happiness when she saw the cowering child.

She was terrified, tears slowly forming in her eyes as she realized that something bad was going to happen. She was only five, not old enough to see the true consequences, but she did understand one thing: This was not a good situation to be in. (And that she didn't want to be eaten.)

The bird-lady gripped her by the arm, yanking her up from her position on the floor. Her hands clutched around the scissors, wide, teary-eyes staring into the red of the woman before her.

"You put up a good fight, demigod," she hissed out, "but never has one managed to escape Azela! I will be feasting on you soon, all we need is some salt."

Now seeing what is left of the art room, Violet felt her mouth fall open. It was trashed, completely, with not a single thing but the desk left untouched. Even something as simple as the paper was ripped and left in shredded pieces.

Azela dragged her towards the exit door, glass shards crunching underneath her feet. She didn't want to follow, she wanted to go home and watch Disney movies with her dad and stay up past her bedtime watching him work.

She was crying now, big tears rolling down her red cheeks as she attempted to yank her arm out of her hands. Everything was getting weird again, her vision focusing on the smallest details—the way Azela's feathers moved with every moment, one of her toe-talons was chipped, and the fake plant broken in half in the corner, surrounded by stepped-on markers and broken glass.

The lady turned to her, mouth opening to most likely shriek something about how tasty she would be with salt. Everything moved in slow motion, and she didn't realize her arm was moving.

She screamed. Everything was moving at their normal speed, and she had a pair of scissors shoved within the mouth of Azela. She seemed shocked for a moment, eyes wide and mouth agape around the scissors, and then she went poof and exploded into a gigantic pile of yellow dust.

Violet fell to her knees, the scissors falling out of her hand and to the side of her. The dust fell around her, coating her body and the floor around her in a fine layer of it. She was still crying, sobs now bubbling up to the surface as her small figure shook.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, a five-year-old surrounded by yellow and broken art supplies. Her mind had gone from hyper-focus to blank.

"Oh heavens!" Violet lifted her teary eyes to see the art teacher, Ms. Evans, stood in shock in the doorway. Her eyes flickered around, from the ruined art-room to the crying first-grader. "Miss Stark, what have you done?"

She was expelled.

Six-year-old Violet Stark sat in the back of her dad's car, the man sitting across from her, as Happy Hogan (their bodyguard and personal driver) drove her to her new school.

She reportedly went hysteric and completely recked a whole schoolroom (no one remembered Azela the lunch lady. They said she ran off on her own, leaving Mrs. Epps searching for her), the court claimed her a troubled kid and made her father cough up money for property damage. Luckily, Pepper managed to keep reporters off of it, so she wouldn't be known as Tony Stark's Troubled Kid. Instead, she was just Tony Stark's Bastard Kid, but she didn't know what bastard meant, so she didn't care.

That was one of the ways of saying she took a long break from school and was now a second-grader after spending the three months of first grade in a Therapy School, where she was taught not to let her anger get ahold of her.

"Remember," Tony Stark, her father in all his glory, said, "no destroying classrooms."

"Yeah," she nodded her head, her bangs flopping against her forehead, "I know. I hated it a ferapy school."

She had trouble pronouncing her th's, to the point that her dad had hired a specialist just to fix it. It wasn't working well.

Violet wanted to say she didn't do it. She had learned early on it was stupid to do so, no one else could have. She was found crying, bloody (she cut her knee against the glass, it left a small scar) and covered in what they called 'yellow glitter'. Still, she at least wanted her father to know that it wasn't her. That she wasn't the child they claimed her to be.

At least one good thing came out of it. Her father started paying a lot more attention to her. Sarah, a girl she met during her biweekly anger management group therapy sessions, told her that it was probably because someone told him she acted out to get his attention.

Sarah was ten, and she said that she had something called Oppositional Defiant Disorder. It basically made her angry all the time, at least, according to Sarah.

It was also there she got diagnosed with ADHD, which, in the very nice words of her therapist: "Could have also caused your anger." It also explained those moments when all Violet could do was focus on small or insignificant details.

"Make friends," her dad continued, "make a lot of friends. I was very popular, and you should have no problems doing the same, but, of course," he pushed down his sunglasses and give her his typical I'm just joking smile, "you are nowhere as cool as me."

"I'm not?"

Tony shook his head, "No, no, you, Violet," he pointed at her with a very serious look, "are beyond cooler."

"Really?"

"Yes, as much as it hurts my ego to admit. I have a very cool child."

The car ride continued like that, Violet and her dad joking and Tony's very dry sense of humor. He had also gotten her a sugary juice box from the minifridge in the car (very strange, but she didn't think about it, there had just always been one there), even though Pepper had said no sugar before lunch.

Of course, that was the day that everything changed.


	2. chapter one | following a bird across the country

**Chapter One: Following a Bird Across the Country (feat. The Lunch Lady's Sister)**

Violet really wasn't sure what happened.

The day was going pretty well. Only a few kids laughed when she couldn't pronounce _th_ , and she had already made a friend. A pretty girl named Maddie sat next to her during arts and crafts and declared Violet her new best friend. It was nice.

She couldn't wait until she got home and told her dad all about her day. Maddie and Maddie's other best friend, Tia, had picked flowers with her during recess. Then they played tag but had to stop when the boys wanted to join in.

"We don't like boys," Maddie said, "they have cooties."

The two girls were seven, with Tia almost being eight (her birthday was in October), so Violet figured they had to know what they were talking about. They explained cooties as a disease boys had, and if you got it, you had cooties too.

She really didn't want cooties.

Then it all went wrong. She had done it again.

She didn't remember what had happened, only that her newest teacher was giving her the chills and was staring her classmate down. But not in a way a teacher would—she looked like she considered the boy her next meal.

For the life of her, she couldn't figure out where the fire came from. One second, she was watching Eddie, who was being watched by the teacher, and the next there was a fire in the classroom and the teacher was screeching—"Fire! Fire!" And was staring at her.

Violet knew she didn't make the flames. She had no way of doing so. She had learned the lesson of don't play with matches already, she knew better!

But she knew they would find a way to blame her. Like the Art Room. They would ship her back off to therapy school and her dad would have even more stress on his plate.

Violet felt tears come to her eyes. She sat alone on a bench only a stone throw away from her school building, her body turned to watch the children evacuate, guilt leaking into the pit of her stomach.

She was crying now, sniffling and wiping her cheeks off with the sleeves of her cardigan. Her school tights were itchy and she was cold.

Violet huffed, moving her body so she was sitting forwards, looking out into the forest that sat behind her school. She knew she'd have to go back soon, she couldn't just run away.

Or could she?

Wiping more tears off her cheeks, something white caught her vision. She furrowed her eyebrows together, making out what looked like a pure white bird nestled in the trees, beady eyes starring her down. In its mouth was some kind of fancy tree branch. It tilted cocked its head, seemingly saying: Follow me.

Something felt familiar about the bird. It caused a warmth in her chest, the kind being with her dad caused. The loud shrill sound of the fire alarm blared behind her, like it was taunting, you won't do it, you won't run away.

The bird flapped its wings open, ready to take off. Violet got off the bench, pulling her bright pink Strawberry Shortcake backpack on, and nodded. She was going to follow that bird.

It had only been two hours.

Her feet ached, she was hungry, and she missed her dad. She felt stupid, chasing after a bird that went from tree to tree, never dropping the dumb stick. Her stomach would growl and her cheeks would heat up, as if the bird judged her.

If she ever lagged behind, or ever stopped to consider running to the nearest restaurant and calling home, it would flap over her and make bird noises. It allowed her a few breaks to rest on benches, but when it deemed she'd rest enough, it'd peck at her.

Violet figured if she got hungry enough she'd eat the bird.

As if it heard her thoughts, it let out an offended hoot and swooped over her head, branch flapping against the wind as it dragged her to the direction of the closest McDonald's. She could only tell because of the few signs that would pop up, typically when she walked on the grassy part beside highways.

The big Golden arches were a welcomed sight, telling her that food was nearby and she wasn't going to have to eat her guide. Her stomach garbled, causing her to place a hand on it.

Oh yeah, she had no money. Plus, she doubted they would serve McDonald's to a six-year-old.

Violet sighed, stopping her steps halfway through the parking lot as she considered this. She was probably dirty, dressed in a school uniform, and alone. The bird above her went crazy, doing flips and dives in the air, and each time it would point its beak towards the restaurant.

"I can't," Violet said, "I have no money."

That didn't help anything, it only made her feel stupid for talking to a bird. She figured that, if she stood there any longer, she was either going to get hit by a car or the bird would poop on her, so she made hurried steps into the restaurant.

The smell of McDonald's caused her mouth to water. On a good day, her and her dad together could gobble down five of their cheeseburgers. Thinking about that just caused her to miss her dad, so she ignored it.

Brushing pieces of brown hair away from her face, she got into line. Maybe she could get a few pity fries, even if they ended up being cold and state. She was hungry.

"What can I get yo…" The teenager working the cash register faltered at the sight of her. She looked to be about fifteen, with dark skin, thick curls, and overall pretty features. Her nametag said: **Hello! I'm Michelle**.

Violet smiled at her. "Can I have a happy meal?" She figured go big or go home. And she was running away, so she had no choice but to go big.

Michelle's eyes went unfocused for a second, then, she nodded. She grinned down at Violet like she was the best thing she'd ever seen, "You wait right here, I'll go get you your meal." And left into the kitchen area.

Her jaw dropped.

Within a couple of minutes, Michelle walked in, a Happy Meal box in hand. She gave it to Violet without asking for any money, and Violet, not wanting her to realize what she had done and take it back, quickly made her way out of the place.

The bird almost looked cocky.

Violet had been following the bird for two days, sleeping under park benches (so if it rained she wouldn't get soaked) and asking very nicely to get food. She had no clue why the cash register person in every McDonald's she went to had no problem giving her a Happy Meal, but she wasn't going to question it.

Her feet ached even worse than the first day, and she had no doubt she was burning holes into the souls of her shoes. The dove had been speeding up, like it was dragging her towards a destination, and she had a time limit.

It was then when she decided she needed a ride, to spare her poor feet.

That was how she discovered that she could do more than talk her way into McDonald's—the woman working the train ticket stand didn't even blink when handing over a train ticket to El Paso, Texas (as chosen by the bird she had now dubbed Pep, after Pepper. She'd point at a place on the train map and watch the bird's reaction, El Paso had the best).

While waiting for the train, she attempted to clean up in the station's bathroom. Her face was smeared with dirt and there were a few leaves in her hair. Using the water from the sink and the soap the place offered, she attempted to clean herself off.

The one thing she couldn't fix was the many tears and newly made holes in her school uniform. Her tights looked like someone attacked them with a pair of scissors, her cardigan went from a cream color to an off brown, and had snags all over.

Her shoes looked the worst. They, when she left, was a polished black, gleaming in the sun. Now they were caked in mud with pieces of grass stuck to it. She pulled them off, ignoring the cold feeling of the gross public bathroom floor, and washed them off into the sink.

She felt bad for whoever had to clean up the chunks of dirt from the sink.

Pep had followed her into the bathroom. Feeling bad for the poor bird, for, as far as she was aware, had not drunk or ate anything since the start, she cupped her hands together to make a makeshift cup for it. Pep had little trouble also using her hands as a birdbath.

Still, it didn't drop the branch.

When it was time, she boarded the train. Pep followed after her, and if anyone else saw her, they either didn't care or didn't feel like reacting. Their eyes filtered right over the feathered creature like it didn't exist.

The train ride was eighteen hours.

For a good majority of the ride, no one talked to her. Everyone was all caught up in their own stuff—reading, talking on their phones, or other mind-numbing things to help with boredom. Herself, when she wasn't sleeping, used the stuff in her old school-bag to color.

It was when they made it to Lordsburg, New York, only three hours to go, when someone first talked to her.

She was busy drawing a picture of her, her dad, and Pepper (the woman, not the bird) when a woman approached her. She was a redhead, though obviously died, with dark brown eyes and wrinkled around her mouth. "Hello," she said.

"Hi," Violet responded, looking up from her artwork.

The woman looked her over, seemingly assessing her outfit, "You're… the Stark girl, aren't you?"

Violet's eyes had grown a considerable size, as she realized that this woman knew who she was! She couldn't believe that she had made it this far just to be dragged back, because obviously she was going to call the police!

So, she did what she thought was sensible, "No."

The woman nodded her head, running a few fingers through her hair. Her eyes became glossed over, sort of like Michelle from McDonald's, and smiled, "Oh, my bad!" She said in an overly cheerful voice, and left her alone.

She got off exactly two hours and fifty-five minutes later, using water and a paper towel in a failed attempt to brush her teeth. Her breath stank of Happy Meals and sleep, but she had no choice but to suffer through it.

Pep, who had mainly slept during the ride, flew her way towards another train map. Violet groaned out, "Another train? Aren't we fere?" Once more, she pronounced her th wrong.

The bird just cawed in response.

So they played the pointing game, deciding on New Orleans. Once more she asked the man at the ticket area, and he handed them over without pay.

Her stomach grumbled again, as it had been about twenty-one hours since her last meal. She looked up at Pep, "Food?"

Violet followed the white bird to a new place this time—Wendy's. When it was her turn to order, she chose the first thing her eyes saw, a Bacanator and a side of fries, plus a drink. Like always, she got it without money.

She attempted to feed a few fries to Pep, but the bird refused to drop the branch. She grew worried, what if it starved?

After she had finished her meal and threw the bags away, she followed the bird back to the train station. She was stopped halfway by another feathered woman.

Stood in the middle of the pathway she followed to Wendy's was a woman with pitch-black flowers, white talons growing out of her hands, and an evil glint in her red eyes.

"Demigod!"

Pep made a pained noise, and flew off—Violet had cried out when she noticed, now alone (though, to be fair, it was a bird… that she was trusting to lead her to safety) and facing what looked like her evil lunch lady's sister.

"You killed Adela's sister!"

Oh, it _was_ her evil lunch lady's sister.

"Adela has hunted you down, weakling! Adela will avenge Azela!"

Violet swallowed, eyes scanning the area for anything she could use to fight back, assuming that Adela was anything like Azela. Her eyes widened as she realized she had a pair of safety scissors in her bookbag, but she needed to get to them without getting killed.

"Prepare to die!" Adela charged at her, black wings flapping as she snapped her teeth at her. Violet made a noise that sounded like ' _aaaaah_ ' and took several steps backward, ducking to miss the flying bird-lady.

She removed her bright pink bookbag from her back, quickly opening the zipper and rummaging her hand through it. There was a loud squawk, the sound of flapping wings once more, and then the sounds of claws digging against dirt.

Violet's fingers clutched around her dark purple safety scissors, hoping they were good enough to kill a lunch lady. Or, a lunch lady's sister.

Stand up, a gust of wind brushed her hair away from her face and behind her like a cape, making her feel like a superhero. (Which, it would be super cool to be a superhero).

Adela kicked her foot against the ground, like she was ramping up to come and eat her. "Don't you want me to be salty?" She asked, knowing that this was the opposite of a time to do so.

"No!" Cried Adela, "I like mine plain—children of Aphrodite always taste like cherries, anyways!"

"Oh," Violet blinked, who was Aphrodite? "Okay."

She held her safety scissors up like it was a knife, having a faint remembrance of the last school year when she did the same. The only difference was this time she had done it before, and they were on a hiking trail, not a messed up Art Room.

The Art Room was going to haunt her forever, apparently.

Done with the talking, Adela flew towards her. Her talon gripped onto her shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, she felt her worn-down dress shoes lift off the ground. She panicked, and, without thinking, used the full force of her noodle arm to stab the scissors into the chest of the bird-woman.

Said creature let out a screech, dropping her to fall onto the ground with a humph!

"You stabbed Adela!" She screeched, "With the weapon of a child! Unacceptable!"

Violet blinked, collecting her thoughts. Her hazel eyes tempted to focus on the midnight black of the woman's fathers, but the fall had knocked all sense from her small body.

Adela crept up on her, face overtaken with an evil smile. The scissors had fallen from Violet's grip, landing far enough away that she couldn't grab them. She opened her mouth like a snake's jaw unhinged.

Then there was the sound of wings flapping. A lot of wings flapping.

Violet turned her eyes from Adela to what looked like a cloud in the sky. Wait… no, a group of birds flying together. Each was pure white, the same breed as Pep—who was leading the group with the branch in beak.

"What?" Cried Adela, "No! No!"

The birds swooped, surrounding the woman in a swarm of pure white. She screeched, claws attempting to hit the birds, but each time she somehow managed to miss.

Violet wanted to watch with wide eyes, but instead used this moment to grab her scissors. She figured she had to do what she did to Azela, stab her through the mouth.

"Fank you!" Violet called, "But you can't kill her," she brushed a chunk of hair out of her face, "I fink I can." Stupid _th_ made that moment a lot less cool.

As if they listened to her command, the birds moved away, leaving a ruffled Adela crouched on the ground. Her wings were waving around wildly, seemingly unaware that they had left her alone.

"Hey!" Violet felt brave—at least, braver than she did before. Wielding her weapon of a child and glaring down a quivering bird-lady, she felt like she could take on the world. "Bird face!"

Adela turned to her, red eyes narrowing at the sight of her. "Little demigod has to hide behind mother's helpers? Pathetic!"

She chose to ignore that comment until after she had killed them, as she figured trying to decypher the enemies' words during a fight was just a way to get distracted.

She rose from the ground, shaking her winged arms out. "Little demigod thinks she can fight Adela? Hah!" She started laughing, loudly.

Violet shrugged, and charged. The wind whipped at her hair, but she ignored it, and instead focused on Adela's open mouth. And, without the sound of her scissors going through the woman's flesh, she had killed her.

And, to prove the point, the woman burst into the yellow powder.

"Oh, good!" A chirpy voice called out from behind her, "I knew you could do it!"


End file.
